


sweet little bullet

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cheap local candies and beer and a lapful of cocky twenty-one-year-old pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sweet little bullet

**Author's Note:**

> not making profit, i own nothing, blah blah blah. even the title ain't mine. that's all tom waits, folks.  
> this drabble was inspired by the sweet little sketch at the beginning, originally put up here => http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/62375040108 (i have no fucking idea how this site works yet, i'm sorry, jfc)  
> the last and only time i ever visited australia and heard the accent myself, i was nine years old. so sorry for all the dubious apostrophes every time chuck speaks.

[](http://kaciart.tumblr.com/image/62375040108)

You sigh wearily, smile and hold your arms out. “C’mere.”

Immediately he tosses a leg around your hip to haul himself onto your lap, knees locking around your hips. He twists his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck to tilt your head back, and none too gently. You hiss and try yanking him by the dog tags in retaliation, but then he mouths at the hinge of your stubbled jaw with uncharacteristic tenderness, and your brain pretty much short-circuits at that.

"Don’t expect that I’ll just come running each time you feel all clingy, _Ra_ leigh,” he mutters when he’s done bruising your skin. You chuckle quietly and slide your hands up his thighs, replying with a “Wouldn’t dream of it, kid” that earns you a nip to your neck for the pet name, and then a near-brutal kiss. You respond with less haste, slow things down to a lazy slide of lips and tongue, losing yourself to his taste of cheap local candies and beer.

Then his hand slips between you and rucks your shirt up, brushing your nipples and suddenly things aren’t as slow anymore. You jerk up at his touch but he braces you to your bunk with his entire body, snarls out “don’t fuckin’ _move_ " in a voice already so wrecked you don’t argue. Blindly he unbuttons both your jeans, and you gasp helplessly when he clasps you both together, moving so slow and just beautiful.

He grins manic at the corners and hides his face in the crook of your neck, panting hot and damp on your skin. You find the ribbon of his boxers peeking out of his jeans and tug down, just barely grazing the swell of his ass. He curses and twists his hand, the both of you moaning at the feel.

It doesn’t last long. He finishes when you swipe your fingers around and over the crack of his ass, and you come still laughing, breath hitching on a yelp. He glares and punches you as you still laugh and laugh coming down.

"Stop it, y’sound like a dying donkey –" But the furious blush staining him from the roots of his hair all the way to his collarbones is more than just his afterglow, and you just can’t stop the way your lips keep twitching upwards. You hook an arm around his shoulders and haul him back when he tries to pull away, whisper low in his ear, "Don’t worry, we’re taking things all the way through next time."

Even when he elbows you hard to get you to let him go and find a used shirt to wipe you both off, you spot those rarely glimpsed, utterly endearing dimples bracketing the corners of his mouth before he turns away, and you count that as a success in and of itself.


End file.
